Today was a good day. Nobori kept his eye on the boy running around with his cloak while he hooked a cooking pot to to the upper support of the newly built yurt. The other wardens were busy with their own duties finalizing their work on the yurt outside. It had only been one week since Lian’s Warden ceremony. Per custom all the older wardens aided in creating the boy’s home in in the Heartwoods.
They were nearly done but it was his duty to both ensure the inside of the yurt had everything it needed in its proper place as well as keep the newest warden from going outside. He was not to see the painting the others were doing until they were finished. Pulling on the hanging metal he insured that it was not about to fall anytime soon. Once satisfied he settled down near the unlit hearth.
Grey eyes watched Lian spin about making the old damaged cloak flair. He couldn’t help a small crackling chuckle at how the boy was drowning in the fabric. Brown eyes snapped to him
“What? What’s so funny?” Lian asked and plopped down before him head slightly tilted with a grin.
“Oh nothing, just thinking about how only 5 years ago you were causing everyone so much trouble.” The boy gasped dramatically in false offense.
“I did not cause trouble!” He leaned back with his exclamation.
Nobori laughed loudly and took the hat from his own head to tug it down Lian’s head, happy with the laughter it got out of the 10 year old.
“Oh you were such a troublemaker, I seem to recall finding you out in freezing temperatures completely alone harassing the Pokémon. However, I am proud of how far you have come and I am excited to see what heights you reach next.” His voice undercurrent with a proud rolling chime.
Lian pulled the hat down further over his eyes and groaned, Nobori could see the tips of his ears turn a rosy red.
“You’re such a grandpa” and Nobori couldn’t help but laugh loudly. He couldn’t remember the age he must have died at, couldn’t even recall his own name still. Many assumed he had been an elder of 60 at the youngest and he didn’t know enough to refute it. He didn’t mind being called grandfather, all familial honorifics made his soul fire twist and burn warmer in his chest. Each time patching up the hole left behind from people he loved and lost but could not remember.
It reminded him that he not only had a community but a family. Reaching over he straightened the hat so it sat somewhat properly on Lian’s head, perhaps he should see about getting the child a hat of his own? But that was a thought for another day.
Palina chose that moment to poke her head in. A bright smile on the young woman’s face, paint splattered on her hands and face.
“Lian you can come out now, it’s time to claim your new space and duty” She stood aside as the boy jumped up and rushed out, the oversized cloak left behind in his rush. Nobori took his time, thanking Palina when she offered her assistance.
“Well then, let’s not keep them waiting” he chimed happily while draping the worn clothing apparel over an arm. Palina nodded and hooked an arm around one of his to lead him out. Yes today was a very good day indeed.
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something I’ve been thinking abt is how many people think Makoto is immune to despair. I don’t think he is. I think becoming the ultimate Hope was BECAUSE he felt despair. He wouldn’t have fully reached that point without Junko. Makoto becoming such a beacon was his last attempt to avoid completely falling and it wasn’t because he didn’t feel despair, it was because he was too damn stubborn to allow everything to go to waste and he refused to sacrifice his beliefs for someone else’s. His inner monologue tells me he DID experience the same new low the other suvivors did in the final trial, but at the point where he had the choice to give up and die, he looked at the others and he looked at Junko and he couldn’t allow it to happen, not out of self preservation, but because the idea that Junko would have control over their lives made him FURIOUS. and that utter refusal to die kicked in, wether luck or otherwise, and he made the concious effort for one last push while something in him was breaking. He had to be broken in order for the Ultimate Hope to come through so aggressively, bc it could only exist in the face of the Ultimate Despair. He snapped the same way she did, but in the other direction. In what could have been his final moments he chose to embody everything Junko wasn’t, and every single optimistic and luck fueled ideal in him suddenly charged forward and pushed him. It was a combination of the final straw and a choice. Makoto isn’t immune to feeling despair, he’s just too stubborn to fall into it of his own volition. I think that’s why I like that scene in DR3 so much. People were SO SHOCKED Makoto actually fell for the tape, that he actually became despair for a moment. I saw people getting mad or disappointed, saying it was pathetic and Makoto seemed to fall from some sort of pedestal for them. Honestly part of me wonders if that sort of mentality, which clearly people had in universe, affected Makoto a bit. Like he started to see himself as less of a person, subconsciously. Prompting him to take more risks, less self preservation, act way more bold. It seems he has to be reminded a lot not to put himself in danger by his friends, to not do something too reckless. All over the place I would see in regards to that scene either this frivolous ‘oh this was just angst drama with no meaning behind it’ or ‘he can do better than that. he’s so weak’ or ‘come on, there’s no way he’d fall into despair, he’s the Ultimate Hope!’ This kind of mentality, which was kind of ironic considering Ryota was there the entire time saying the same thing and treating Makoto the same way. Like Makoto was superhuman. Like Makoto didn’t feel despair the same way ‘normal people’ did. In a way that was also how Munakata saw Makoto. Makoto stopped being a PERSON to the world when he became Ultimate Hope, he became a concept, a belief system, much the same way Junko ascended beyond herself. But the difference is that treating Makoto that way is the opposite of the reason Makoto became such a representative for hope. He wasn’t doing something no one else could. He was doing something everyone had the chance to, he just… was a little more optimistic, a little more stubborn, a little more ‘gung-ho’ about things. He just took the lead where no one else did, where no one else knew they even COULD in the face of Junko’s unstoppable force. She had overcome the biggest threats and obstacles in the world, what could one person do? And the answer Makoto found was, anything. Everything. It doesn’t all rest on Makoto, he’s just the one that was inspired to try to do what seemed like the impossible. But as evidenced by the change in his friends after that trial, it’s clearly not something only Makoto is capable of. The others pulled out of despair thanks to Makoto, but it was their choice to do so.
“But… this world is so huge, and we’re so small. What can we do…? No, we can probably do anything. Yeah! We can do anything!”
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THINGS ARE STARTING TO COME BACK TO YOU, AND YOU'RE CURIOUS. YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON. › FROM ELIZABETH MARCH. @embodies
She still sensed it, the universe spinning around with no ending or beginning; the way her blood curdled a horrid gurgle, even if it no longer pumped to her brain. She haunted marble walls on silent feet. The place a fusion of malevolence and beauty, and Jane, despite her hollowed flesh and often unseeing eyes, couldn't help but find a strange sort of enticement within said walls, all perfectly draped and painted. She knew quite little of its happenings, bizarre spirits of muddled eras all sharing one patch of land; although the mind became a hazy thing due to submittance of the final years of her life, she was no fool. Isolated company was merely favoured, a lithe black cat scampering against corners, gaze finding deathly endurances but never remaining long enough to understand reasoning behind vile acts. Sitting, feeling, unthinking.
Where there was rot, there was Jane Ives. Stuck in the jaws of a hellish beast, taker of lives, but leaving the soul to crumble. Oftentimes she wondered what she was actually doing here; inner workings utterly vandalised by a madman's execution for warped world-peace. The toxicity resting in her bloodstream confused old memories, scorched her past-life: all she remembered of her mother entailed a whiff of perfume and a few phrases of a lullaby she used to sing. One day she'll uncover truths, the ugly and pure— but for now, the body only yearns for kindred consideration, perhaps something to call her own. Three decades would rear its date in a handful of months, and a spark had begun to litter in her mind's eye.
“Yes. I am curious.” The very first time Jane saw Elizabeth, she was positive she had moved to a better destination; swore she bore witness to an angel welcoming her to heaven's palace. (Oh Saint Peter let me in, you must know where I've been! Won't you tell me at last who I am?) Ever quickly, the hand she wished to hold, she realised, was sharp, a creature's claw; fascination did not dwindle but fear ushered the child away. It's clear the woman saw everything happening inside her hotel, including frizzled recollections resurfacing, taunting innocence of youth and marking it for horror. “I remember... things.” Honesty possessed no hesitation, as the words spilled it felt good to speak them aloud. To relieve herself. “There is a block. A... something foggy. It stops me remembering.” Frustration threatened its course, as one might perceive through her jaw tightening, lifeless pallor nearly gaining a flash of colour.
This is your story, written and rewritten, scratched out, burned and buried. “Did I... Was I always... this?” Is it foretold that I haunt the head of a girl graced for much more than her destiny provided? Chin cants, shoulders purposely squared like trying to light a guise of confidence. “Bee - cause I do not think I was always in this place.”
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